


Managing Chaos

by fallingforcas



Category: Cheaper by the Dozen (Movies), Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Parents, Angst and Tragedy, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Family, Happy Ending, Lots and Lots of Kids, M/M, and fluff, cheaper by the dozen AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 07:35:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13699875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingforcas/pseuds/fallingforcas
Summary: Back then, in southside, living in a chaotic world of the Milkovich house, Ian and Mickey would have never thought the number twelve would be so significant to them.It was the number of times Mickey found himself in handcuffs outside the Alibi. It was the amount of times Ian attempted to learn how to play guitar in his manic episodes. It was also the number of kids they would later have to keep track of.(Cheaper By the Dozen AU)





	Managing Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is my revamp of "Twelve is a Magic Number" I realised my writing was soooooo much worse back then and I wanted to rewrite the whole thing.  
> 2\. As you know I haven't posted in ages, but I will be continuing in the next few weeks. For those who really liked "The Harder You Fight" fic will be delighted to know that i will soon be continuing that.  
> 3\. this is based closely to the plot of Cheaper By the Dozen movie (2003) but I have fit it towards the characters of Mickey and Ian.  
> 4\. I will update more chapters hopefully every week (I will try) but I will finish this one.  
> 5\. Hope you like it, I welcome your comments and help if you need to.  
> 6\. Not all the chapters will be this long - its just because it's the opening chapter.

_Back then, in southside, living in a chaotic world of the Milkovich house, Ian and Mickey would have never thought the number twelve would be so significant to them._

_It was the number of times Mickey found himself in handcuffs outside the Alibi. It was the amount of times Ian attempted to learn how to play guitar in his manic episodes. It was also the number of kids they would later have to keep track of._

_Lying against the mangled sheets, smoke leaving their mouths as they took a drag from the two last cigarettes in Mickey’s pack, Ian and Mickey would have said twelve is a fuck load of kids – only a crazy person would want that many – but they would come to realize it was what they wanted._

_Ian had always dreamed of having a big family of his own. Living in the Gallagher house, surrounded by brothers and sisters that cared for each-other, Ian wanted that for himself. Mickey, however, discarded the subject for many years. Whilst the Gallagher’s were indulged in family life, Mickey’s childhood did not consist of a loving home. The Milkovich’s were the polar opposites but, as usual, Ian found a way to persuade him._

_Mickey and Ian finally got hitched. Nothing big, just family and a shit ton of alcohol supplied by Kev and V. Mickey finally admitted that a marriage was not just a piece of paper and was actually the one to propose. Ian was shocked of course, it was a big statement coming from a southside thug that demanded he didn’t show public displays of affection, but it was he wanted._

_Finally married, out in the open, and ready to move on from the confining constraints of the Milkovich household, Ian and Mickey bought their first apartment together. It was nothing fancy; one-bedroom, small kitchen and a space big enough to fit a two-seater couch and a television set. It was their first night in the place, they were settling into bed ready start early the next day for work, when Ian suggested having a child._

_Mickey had scowled at the idea; he had finally got Ian all for himself, living together without being woken up by an angry Russian, and Ian was suggesting bringing a screaming child into the mix. As usual, Ian had a plan; he had already asked Svetlana if she would happily be their surrogate for them – at a reasonable price of course – and she said yes. Despite being Ian’s genius idea, it was Mickey who had to take one for the team and donate his sperm. Ian was skeptical to use his, merely because he was scared of passing on the Monica gene, he had kept his bipolar on check, but he didn’t want his child to go through that. Mickey agreed --- after a long, long pitch from Ian._

_A year later, they had Abigail. A dark-haired, blue eyed little girl; the spitting image of Mickey._

_With Mickey working most days of the week in the fixing cars in the local garage, Ian took time off from his office job to look after Abigail. Having a child was not as easy as they expected – the house was a constant mess, both Ian and Mickey were deprived from sleep and constantly tripping over countless, scattered toys. This did not stop them from wanting more._

_Three years went by and they began to get broody, wishing that their three-year old was back to be a quiet, sleeping newborn instead of a screaming toddler that ran circles around their feet. That’s when Ethan was born, yet again an exact replica of Mickey. Two years later, they had Mia. Another screaming child to put into the mix._

_Ian suggested that they leave it had three; it was more than they could handle, and the house was way too small to hold all of them. After Mia was born, whilst having two little ones running around, they finally made a move to a bigger house. Whilst work was important to Ian, his family meant more, and he quit. They found Mickey a job in a garage closer to the new house; better pay, flexible hours, and mostly legal._

_That’s when Mickey and Ian lost track of time and as soon as they knew it they ended up with four more kids in the consecutive years; Lucas, Harper, Oliver and Jayden. The house was filled with noise, life, and feet jabbing toys. It wasn’t bad, they loved it – if anything Mickey and Ian felt more at home._

_They decided that one more wouldn’t hurt; they were perfectly balancing seven kids whilst earning enough money to feed their mouths on Mickey’s raised income. Unfortunately, they didn’t expect their surrogate to push out two kids instead of one._

_Twins. The first set of twins. Despite the immediate shock, Mickey wouldn’t let go of Sophia and Ian clutched to Scarlett. They couldn’t separate them._

_Nine kids. With each child growing, Ian and Mickey hardly had time to focus on their own ambitions. Ian was still out of work, looking after the kids during the day whilst Mickey worked. Mickey had been promoted to manager which tired him out most nights. It was a struggle, but they were happy with their big family. They decided to stop at nine, Mickey was close to collapsing at this point._

_But….in typical Ian and Mickey fashion, the only night they had a free they managed to get completely wasted in the Alibi. They took a trip back to the place and things got too out of hand. They began talking about the kids, how they were all suddenly growing, and it felt strange not having a baby to wake them up in the middle of the night._

_Nine months later, Dylan was born._

_Three years went by and as much as Ian and Mickey missed having new-borns, they knew that this family was too big to add anymore. They had everything in check, all the kids growing and beginning school. That’s until Ian somehow ended up at an adoption place – Mickey is still suspicious to why he randomly went there – and fell in love with two little boys; twins. After pleading and persuading Mickey that these boys depended on them, they adopted the two. Noah and Jacob._

_That made the perfect twelve._

_By this time Ian and Mickey were professionals in managing chaos._

                                                                                                              ****

Mickey fumbles with his keys as the cold weather freezes his fingers, cursing under his breath as the struggle continues to occur. With a slight push he gets through the wide front door, entering the front-room that was lit up by the images on the television set. An eerie silence filled the room; worrying Mickey slightly as this was a very rare occurrence especially with twelve children living in the house.

 

Kicking off his boots and chucking his coat into the huge pile of others, he walks over to the fridge calling out for his absent husband. “Gallagher?!”

 

Even though they were clearly married Mickey still called Ian that. Age does not affect old habits.

 

Listening out, Mickey thinks twice about having a cold beer that enticed him on the second shelf. Ian didn’t drink anymore, only on special occasions which was hardly ever, and Mickey always felt too tired to even try to finish one bottle. Thinking against it, he grabs the milk. As he chugs some down, he hears muffled voices from his and Ian’s room at the back of the hall.

 

“Hey, Ian?!” He calls out again, standing facing the hall-way with milk covering his top lip.

 

The mumbling continued, and he finally heard that familiar voice. “In here, Mick.” Only moving an inch, Mickey hears Ian shout again. “And stop drinking the milk from the bottle! I don’t give a shit if you’re thirsty, that’s for the kids.”

 

Smirking to himself, a rebellious flare rushing through him, Mickey decides to have a little more. Oh, the things you enjoy after having twelve children. He places it back in the fridge before heading towards Ian’s voice, his feet pattering against the wooden floor.

 

The door creaks as he pushes it slowly, his eyes lighting up in awe of Ian sat at the small desk that they squished into the corner. With his head deep inside a book, Ian’s red locks fell against his face, all strayed and messy from a hectic day with the kids. Mickey smiled at the sight, letting out a relieved sigh when he stepped forward and planted a kiss against the other man’s cheek.

 

Jolting a little, Ian relaxed into the kiss, a smile breaching against his freckled cheeks. “Hey, good day?”

 

Mickey empties his pockets onto the desk whilst clicking his tongue. “If sweating your balls off whilst covered in oil is your thing, then yeah you could say that.” He bends down to remove his socks when they both hear his back crack in at-least three places.

 

Ian chuckles, pushing out his chair and he turns his body to face Mickey. No matter how many years went by, Ian always looked at Mickey in a way that made him speechless. He would also always ruin the moment with a smart-ass comment. “You need a paramedic, old man?”

 

Mickey hides his laugh, cheeks glowing a subtle shade of red, and slaps the back of Ian’s head. “Fuck off, man. I need a new back, that’s what I fucking need.” He leans against the desk, facing Ian whilst his hands began to slowly run through greasy hair. “You speak to Fiona?”

 

Ian’s face drops a little. “Yeah, for like five minutes. She said she’d call in the morning.”

 

Things back at the Gallagher house hadn’t been too good for the last week. Fiona had called frantically in the middle night claiming Liam had vanished suddenly. Whilst he was grown up now, Fiona still kept him in arms reach and it was unusual for Liam not to return back home after work. Ian wanted to go back, help them in the search for Liam, but having twelve kids to look after stopped that. For now, he had daily calls from Fiona to give updates on the situation.

 

Mickey bites his lip, feeling a little guilty for asking Ian about it. He leans forward and pecks his lips, his palm shielding the right side of his face. “It’ll be alright, okay?” Ian just nods, face still sloped and saddened in thought.

 

Mickey takes a different approach. When entering the room, he did recognize the strange bumps that were under the covers that were on his and Ian’s bed. There was also that silence and muffled giggles every couple of seconds. He puts a smile on, “What’s this? A clean cover?”

 

A smirk rises on Ian’s face as he steps up from his chair, following Mickey towards the bed. “Yep, no chocolate stains … yet.” A clean cover lasted around fifteen minutes in that household, maybe sixteen if they were lucky.

 

Mickey suddenly turns to Ian, his back towards the strangely moving cover. “Babe?”

Ian’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair-line. Mickey hadn’t called him that in years; it was term they only used strictly in the bedroom. He tilts his head, “Did you just call me babe, Mick?”

 

“On my way back from work, I started thinking.” Mickey chooses to ignore Ian’s question with a wave of his hand. “We’ve been married – what – five years?” He slowly sits himself at the end of the bed.

 

Ian grits his teeth, playfully swatting Mickey’s shoulder, “twenty-three, you dick.”

 

Scoffing, Mickey continues to taunt, shaking his index finger, “Language, Gallagher.” He waits for Ian to smile a bit more, feeling proud of himself that he caused that to happen. “So, we’ve been married twenty-three years – Jesus, I’m fucking old, man.”

 

Giggles are heard from behind Mickey as he questions his own existence for a second. Ian rolls his eyes, “Get on with your point, Mick. Jesus.”

 

Snapping out of it, Mickey gives in. “Jokes aside, I think we need to make a couple of changes around here.” He turns to face the lumps, slightly moving, on their bed. “I mean look at this lumpy mattress? Why do we still have this, I think it’s time it left, man.”

 

Crossing his arms over, Ian plays along. “Don’t be stupid. You know we can’t afford a new one, just pound the lumps out of it. Fiona used to do it _all_ the time when we were kids.”

 

The giggles get louder whilst Mickey and Ian try not to break their – we don’t know you’re under there act. Mickey scrunches up his face, “Wait you can do that? You can just pound lumps out of a mattress? Show me, Gallagher.” He hides his smirk as more sounds emerge from beneath the covers.

 

Ian lightly swats a body-like lump. “Like that. Just randomly swat it, you’re a big boy you can do it.” He gives Mickey a sneaky wink, his grin beaming from ear-to-ear.

 

Mickey begins to swat at the lumps, “Like this? Huh? Just swat away at it.” Laughing as he does so, he hears the numerous variations of giggles from underneath his hands. He falls back against the giggling lumps and smacks his hands against the quilt. As soon as his hand hits the fabric, the kids, par the elder ones, jump out from underneath, jumping on him as their laughable screams echo throughout the room.

 

Jacob, with his dark brown eyes, jumps onto Mickey’s chest and yells in a little voice. “We got you, Daddy! We got you!” As always, Noah repeats his twin brother jumping on the mattress that was covered in laughing children. They all jump around the room, laughing and chanting.

 

Mickey lifts Jacob up, letting the kids surround him on the bed. “You did, eh. You got me good.” Ian chuckles, standing next to the bed, lifting Noah off of the bed. This is the only place Mickey wanted to be, in the middle of screaming kids and his smiling husband; it’s what he learned to love.

 

                                                                                                                ****

The usual morning routine in the Gallagher-Milkovich household never runs smoothly.

 

Noise erupts around the house. Mickey rushes down the hall both Jacob and Noah in his arms still in their pajamas. “Right, come on. Get dressed.” He lets down both down against the floor, Scarlett and Dylan rushing past him as he does so.

 

As he heads to the next room, kids screaming and rushing around, Ian yells behind him. “Mick, Ethan didn’t get in until two last night. Go sort it out.” Before Mickey can reply with a sarcastic remark, Ian is already downstairs.

 

“Fuck sake.” Mickey mumbles under his breath, trying to dodge kids from every angle. Heading towards Ethan’s room he finds Harper bashing a baseball bat against the bathroom door. “Hey!” He calls out.

 

Harper continues to bash against the wood, damage already committed against the frame. Mickey dodges each hit, trying to lift her away from the door. “Harper, cut it out!”

 

Ignoring her father, she yells at the door, “Mia! People need to piss out here! You can only put on so much lip-gloss!” Being a fully formed tom-boy, Harper hated anything to do with make-up, she resented it actually. This was a daily occurrence.

 

Mia’s voice echoes through the wood, “You ruined my concentration – great, now I have to start all over again.”

 

Harper grunts loudly – resembling a true Milkovich child – and attempts to release herself from Mickey’s tight grip. Mickey pulls her back yet again, “Language, Harper. Just cut it out, aright!” Once Harper gets bored of the situation she runs off in the opposite direction, bat in hand. Mickey sighs, smacking his hand against the bathroom door. “Wrap it up, Mia!”

Mia was a true daddy’s girl, especially to Mickey. Even as a baby she clung to him like glue. “Okay, Dad.”

 

Finally feeling as if he’s got control over something, Mickey walks towards his eldest son’s room only to be stopped yet again. Jayden asks, his eyes slightly worried with fear. “Hey, Dad. Have you seen my frog? I swear he was—”

 

Mickey turns, he’s mind on over-load and filled with stress. Today was meant to be his day off. “I haven’t Ethan – I mean Lucas, No Jacob.” Mickey’s so stressed he’s forgotten which child is standing in-front of him.

 

Jayden rolls his eyes, his fishing net clutched in his palm. “It’s Jayden.”

 

Mickey curses under his breath, waving his hand before his face. “Fuck, I knew that.”

 

Leaving Jayden to find his estranged frog, Mickey pushes Ethan’s door open. As usual, Ethan is still in the midst of waking up. Mickey stands at the foot of the bed, “Hey, kid. You going to explain why you stumbled in at two this morning?”

 

Ethan groans, sitting up in his bed. “What does it matter? Didn’t wake anyone up.”

 

Mickey places his hands on his hips. It’s hard for him to grill his kid for stopping out late without sounding hypocritical. “You ain’t going to get into that army school of yours if you’re out smoking pot or with that girl. Are you? Your dads worried.” When it came to Ian worrying, Mickey always got protective.

 

Sighing, Ethan swings his legs to the side of the bed whilst rubbing his eyes. “I don’t think I’m even going.”

 

Widening his eyes, Mickey stands there tapping his foot. Ethan was a version of Ian, he was indulged in the idea of being in the army, yet now he’s changed his mind and Mickey couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. “Since fucking when?”

 

Shrugging, Ethan explains in a monotone voice, “Beth’s brother offered me a job in his auto shop.”

 

Mickey tried not to laugh but it was hard not to do so when his son was determined to follow his footsteps rather than Ian’s. “You serious? You’re going to chuck away school for _that?”_ Mickey knew he sounded stupid because he worked in a garage – even though he did love his job, it wasn’t something to be proud about. He wanted his son to have a future.

 

Blanking his father, Ethan stands up and starts to get dressed. Mickey breathes heavily, “Right, we’ll talk about this later. Just get in before twelve next time? Your dad will have my balls if you don’t.”

 

Ethan bluntly replies, “Right.”

 

Mickey turns on his heel, stopping to speak before he enters the chaos erupting outside the room. “You got anything else you wanna talk about?” It was worth a try.

 

“Hm,” Ethan adjusts himself, feet slipping into his shoes. “Have I ever told you I don’t like you very much?”

As usual, Ethan didn’t fail to make Mickey feel a little bit shit about himself. He loved his son but for some reason – he did not know of – Ethan had drifted from him. Mickey blamed it on Ian being the “Good dad” when Mickey had to dish out the discipline.

 

Mickey reaches for the door handle, nodding his head. “Yeah, many times, man. Many times.”

 

Whilst Mickey tried to control and organize the mess upstairs, Ian rummaged through the letters scattered by the door. Most of them were readable when there were not covered in food, foot-prints, or frog slime. Skipping through school reports – they could wait till later – he finally reaches the bills.

 

Dylan rushes past holding his skates. “Dad, I _need_ new skates. I can’t ride with these!”

 

Without looking up from the letters, Ian calls out to his son, “You don’t _need_ skates, you _need_ to get your ass at that table, so I can feed you.” 

 

Shaking his head, Ian feels his phone buzz. He places the open letters on the higher shelf for later, whipping out his phone from his back pocket. The screen flashes a text from his eldest Abigail.

 

**Hi Dad. Sorry I can’t make dinner tonight. Me and James are moving into the new apartment tonight. Will ring you tomorrow. Love you. X**

Another thing Ian didn’t want to hear. They hadn’t seen their daughter for days now. The new boyfriend had a big influence on her and whilst Mickey gritted his teeth at the thought of his precious little girl with an older guy, Ian had to remember that Abigail was an adult. It was her decision. Doesn’t make him like the guy though.

 

Ian hears a voice behind him as he re-reads the text again, “Dad. Have you seen Slime?” It’s Jayden, fish net still in hand.

 

“No, sorry, Buddy. We will find him after breakfast, alright?” Ian listens for his son’s typical, loud stomps towards the kitchen.

 

Putting his phone away, Ian yells up the stairs, “Everyone get your asses downstairs for breakfast!” He steps towards the kitchen but stops in his tracks when he remembers he forgot to say, “You too, Mick! You’re not going back to bed, there’s no days off in this house!” He smirks as he walks towards the fresh smell of eggs and bacon when he hears Mickey grunt from upstairs.

 

The kitchen is an absolute mess, as usual, to the point where Ian doesn’t even notice it. He pats Ethan on the back, who’s cooking eggs, as he walks towards the washer. Grabbing some clothes, he hears something spill on the floor – something that does not belong on the floor. With a handful of washing, he turns around and sees Jacob and Noah sat in a pile of cereal they had dropped all over the floor.

 

“Noah don’t eat that!” Ian drops the washing into a basket, quickly running towards his son and picking the dirty cereal crust from his hand. “Right, you two. Table. Now.” He ushers the two to their seats, forgetting about the mess they made on the floor. He could get Mickey to clean it.

 

Lucas barges past him, his trumpet lodged in his mouth. He was the only musically talented child in the family and Ian appreciated that – just not at this time in the morning.

The morning routine was very hectic, but Mickey had created a system which allowed things to run a bit more smoothly. Ethan would always help cook the breakfast, Dylan, Oliver and Sophia would make packed lunches for school, Scarlett and Lucas set the table, Jayden and Harper made toast and mostly helped Ethan carry things around the room, whilst Mia looked after the twins – which wasn’t going very well this specific day. Ian thought it was genius but then realized Mickey only created the idea so he wouldn’t have to do every single thing by himself.

 

Mickey stumbles into the room, walking towards Ethan to help with the dozen eggs he had to prepare. Ian smiles, going back to sorting out the left-over laundry. Arranging them into different piles, his actions are suddenly distracted by Mia’s ranting.

 

“Okay, so I know that this family doesn’t value self-preservation like _I_ do.” Everyone begins to groan, carrying on with their morning jobs. “But you all know that my dream is to become a fashion guru, but I also want the community to know that we actually own a bar of soap. Like seriously, we can’t live like this.”

 

Mickey looks over at Ian, laughing lightly. Mia was over-dramatic, this wasn’t something anyone heard back in either of their childhood homes. “Stop being over dramatic, Mia. When me and your dad were your age we didn’t even have water never-mind soap.”

 

Mia storms across the room, flicking her stark black hair over her shoulder, aware that most of the people in there weren’t listening. “I think that if I _am_ the most body conscious in this family I should be allocated at least an extra five minutes in the bathroom.” She folds her arms, rewarding smile on her face.

 

Mickey grabs the pan filled with scrambled egg and walks towards the table, “Three minutes.”

 

“Deal.”

 

The kids begin to sit around the large, round table in the middle of the room. Mia victoriously sits in her seat, smile wide against her pale face. Ian finishes folding clothes and grabs the tub of butter off the kitchen counter. Looking over the table, he notices Harper struggling with a butter knife and a large stack of toast. “Ay, Mia help your sister butter the toast.”

 

Mickey places the final batch of eggs into the middle of the table, gesturing to Ethan to bring the plate of bacon over. Ian begins his usual “dad” spiel, going around the room, “Harper your suspension has been lifted at school, so you’re going in. Don’t bring the shiv in again, aright?”

 

“ _Okay…”_ Harper sulks when pulling out her shiv from the buckle of her boot. She passes it to Ian. Mickey grins towards his daughter; despite her suspension he was proud his daughter was so equipped with protection in the way he used to be in school.

 

Continuing, Ian grabs extra cutlery from the drawer, “Lucas, you’ve got band practice today. I’ve called the other parents and apologized for your inappropriate behavior last week. Be good, aright?”

 

In the middle of practice, in-front on the younger kids, Lucas used his trumpet to resemble male genitalia, nearly getting himself kicked off the class. Ian called the parents, promising them his son would behave – _for the tenth time in five months –_ and he was determined to make sure he did.

Placing the knives and forks at the end of the table, a swarm of hands crowd in grabbing them. Mickey sits down after finishing off the last pieces of bacon and gargles down his glass of orange. Ian gives him a look, eyebrow raised. “You going to let the children do all the work?”

 

Mickey shows him his middle finger, focusing back on his drink. Ian lists off yet other announcements that needed to be said. “Sophia and Scarlett, your teacher called. Stop calling her ass fat in-front of class. Even though it _is_ don’t say it out loud.” The twins nod, reaching for their glasses of orange.

 

“Dylan, you’ve got show and tell.” Before Dylan could sit down at the table, a suspicious looking bag in his hands, Ian grabs it from him. He’s reminiscent of Carl. “That does not mean you can bring road-kill, or slabs of meat into class. Bring a book.” He rushes to the bin, depositing the plastic bag into it.

 

After washing his hands, Ian is the last to sit at the table. He grabs the plate of toast that hasn’t yet been dished out to the kids. Chucking the first two pieces to his youngest, he calls out, “Jacob and Noah, you’ve got a dentist appointment. _So,_ you’re staying at home with dad while I do drop-off.”

 

In matching track-suits, their matching black hair styled the same, Jacob and Noah high-five screaming “Yes!” They always thought Mickey was less strict around the house.

 

After passing out all the toast to the kids, Ian starts to eat his own food, tucking into the eggs. Harper pipes up, knocking Mickey’s elbow with her enthusiasm. “What time is Abigail coming over?”

 

Mickey licks his lips, his ears perking up because he was intrigued to know when his eldest would finally make an appearance after, nearly, a week away. Ian shakes his head, fork stabbing into his egg, “She isn’t. They’re moving into the new apartment today.” He glances at Mickey, seeing the red flare flicker in his husband’s eyes. They’d talk about it later.

 

Harper bites aggressively into her toast, “We never see her since she started dating that doorknob.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Ian attempts to defend the boy he didn’t yet approve of, “He’s not a doorknob.”

 

Mickey scoffs, the kids following his actions, “The guy irons his jeans, man. He’s a doorknob.” All the kids begin to laugh towards Ian’s twisted expression.

 

Following Mickey’s point, Ian had to agree. Life was too short to be standing around ironing jeans. The guy _had_ to be a loser. In the back of his mind, he felt the need to give the guy a chance, for his daughter’s sake, despite his weird clothing habits. “We’ll have to see when he finally comes around to meet us.”

 

“He ain’t coming here.” Mickey abruptly replies, stabbing his fork into his eggs.

 

Ian throws a sharp look, still chewing his food. “Mickey.”

 

That was another thing to add to the list of topics to talk about alone.

 

As the recent conversation starts to fizzle out, the kids all focus on the food laid out in-front of them. Noah and Jacob, as always, make a mess. Ian attempts to tackle eating whilst cleaning the faces of his youngest twins. The rest of the kids spout conversations over the table revolving school, Oliver’s new freakish haircut that Ian _would_ fix by the end of the day, and the noticeable absence of Jayden. Through all the chaos Ian didn’t realize that Jayden hadn’t sat with the others.

 

Before he could ask where his son was, Jayden tumbles into the kitchen clutching to his net. Jayden scans the room, finally looking up at the light shade that hung above the table. Ian feels something in his gut, this civilized breakfast was running _way_ to smoothly.

 

That’s when Jayden lifts his net towards the light. Ian glances up and in his full glory, Jayden’s frog was perched on the shade. How he got there was a question that needed to be answered later. Ian nearly jumps out of his seat, a premonition of the frog falling into the bowl of scrambled egg at the front of his mind. “No, Jayden!”

 

It was too late. As Jayden hits the shade lightly, the frog leaps from the shade and falls directly into the scrambled egg, its weight causing it to splash against each person sat around the table. The kids begin to scream, pulling sections of egg from their hair. Mickey pushes back his chair, regretting not paying attention to what was happening. “What the fuck!” He yells, egg falling from his cheek, his eyes darting to the culprit.

 

“Get that damn frog now!” Mickey yells, ordering the kids as he stood up from his seat.

 

The kids scramble across the table, their hands determined to catch the slimy creature darting around the numerous plates that were laid against the table. Ian climbed on the table at one point. Mickey bears his teeth, watching the thing come towards his end. “He’s heading for the bacon, get him!”

 

The screams didn’t falter, everyone shoving and desperately trying to catch Jayden’s sneaky frog. Before Mickey could grab it, it leaps from the table onto the kitchen counter. They all watch as it knocks over all the recently packed lunches, school bags and _another_ box of cereal. Ian puts his hands to his face, wanting this mess to be over.

 

Mickey rushes from the table, signalling to his husband to go around the other side of the kitchen. Ian does so, gesturing his hand over to Oliver, “Pass me that stick, Oliver!” Oliver grabs the stick that laid against the wall, chucking it to his father.

 

Following suit, Mickey calls out to Jayden. “Jayden, net.” Jayden quickly passes the device to his father, guilt-stricken look plastered over his face.

 

Ian runs towards the back door, stick in hand. He wanted to laugh at Mickey’s serious concentration and the fact it reminded him of the raccoon he and Lip had faced in the past. “Okay, Mick. I’ve got the door covered.”

 

Turning the handle of the net in his hands, Mickey scowls towards the leaping creature. “I’m going to get this son of a –-“ just as he steps forward, determination thriving through his bones, he slips against the egg that was spread against the floor. His – already fucked – back slams against the floor, egg stuck to his freshly washed shirt.

 

The room falls silent, unable to react to their fathers humiliating fall. They knew their father didn’t take that too well; they knew he was pissed. Mickey steps back up, his face filled with anger and the skin on his hands turning white with the tightness of his grip on the net. “Right. That’s it.”

Ian, worried at little at how angry Mickey looked, steps forward. “Mick, it’s fine. Don’t do anything –“

 

Just as fast as the words left Ian’s mouth, Mickey launches forward screaming profanities as he headed towards the croaking frog. The animal leaps from its perched spot, and with shocked and disbelieved faces surrounding him, Mickey somehow manages to catch the frog mid-air and into the net.

 

The room erupts with cheers from all the kids covered in egg and various other foods that were once nicely put onto the table. Even Ian was confused yet cheerful by Mickey’s heroic actions. It had been years since he had seen Mickey so hot and bothered about a situation, or to literally dart across the room like a maniac.

 

Covered head-to-toe in egg, slime, and orange juice, with his hair all mangled and stressed, Mickey tries to relax his face as he turns around towards Jayden. He hears the little boy mumble under his breath, “uh-oh.”

 

Mickey pushes the net forward, “Take Slime to his cage, right now.” He wasn’t angry at his son, he was angry at the damn frog. That thing had tried to out-smart him, nearly broke his back, and yet was still happily sitting inside the net.

 

Jayden gulps, grabbing the net from his father. The other kids whisper some remarks as he tries his best to not mess up anything else. He turns with the net, heading towards his door, unfortunately the handle happened to hit _all_ the drinking glasses that were sat on the near-by shelf on his way out.

 

Ian winces, daring to look. The kids all bear their teeth as they watched their brother humiliate himself even further. Ian taps Mickey on the shoulder, “Is everything broken? I don’t want to look.”

 

Mickey rubs his dirty hand across his face, he sighs loudly. There was never a normal morning in this house; not even on his day off. He nods his head, waiting for Ian to yell about how expensive everything was. Jayden, though, feels his eyes welling up; he always felt that he ruined everything somehow.

 

Before he walks out of the room, holding his head in shame, Harper calls out. “Nice move, Freak.”

 

                                                                          ****

After the disastrous breakfast, Ian leaves Mickey to clean up the kitchen with the twins, whilst he made sure the rest of the kids made it to school. Whilst Ethan, Mia, Lucas, Oliver and Harper were old enough to walk to school, the others had to taken in their crappy mini-van. Ian stands by the car door, watching the now-clean children spill from the front door.

 

Ethan and Lucas walk past, chattering away as Mia approaches her father. “ _Dad...”_

Ian looks up from where he’s ushering Dylan into his seat, “ _What…”_ he mimics her tone.

 

Mia sighs heavily, whipping her hair over her shoulder. “Can I get some new clothes?” She gestures towards the jeans and top that she was wearing. “I’m so done with wearing Abigail’s hand-me-downs.”

 

Looking over at Harper and Oliver riding after Ethan and Lucas on their skateboards, Ian glances back towards his daughter, smiling a little. “You know we can’t afford luxury clothes. Anyway, you look gorgeous in anything you wear, Mia. There’s nothing wrong with your sister’s clothes.”

Ian didn’t want to admit that the top Mia was wearing was once Mandy’s as-well.

 

Mia stomps her foot against the hard floor, before walking off in a grumpy manner. “ _Ugh!”_

 

Before he could address his daughter’s tantrum, both Sophia and Scarlett rush past his hip and climb into the car. He shakes the stress off and watches his defeated son head towards him. Whilst the frog incident was partly Jayden’s fault, Ian didn’t want his son being upset about the situation.

 

He ruffles his son’s hair, bending down to face him. “Hey, you okay? Why the face?”

 

Jayden’s expression sinks some more, “Everyone keeps calling me a freak.” His eyes well up a little. “It’s because I don’t fit into this family.”

 

It does break Ian’s heart a little; he knew the others were only teasing Jayden, but he didn’t realize it would affect Jayden to the point where he didn’t feel like part of the family. Jayden was as important as the rest of them, Ian hated to see his son like this. “Hey. You do fit in this family.” He places his hand on his heart. “You fit right _here._ Okay?”

 

Jayden nods a little. Ian stands up to give him a hug but is interrupted by the sight of Mickey, still covered in food, rushing down the porch steps with keys in his hands. “Hey, Gallagher! You gonna drive that thing without keys?” He approaches Ian, both Noah and Jacob behind him.

 

Ian grins, reaching out his hand to grab the keys. “Shut up.”

 

Mickey, with delight on his dirty face, show Ian his middle finger. “Make me, bitch.”

 

Whilst Ian was slightly turned on by Mickey’s reply, it wasn’t the time or the place to fulfil that request. Instead he gives him a wink, before his eyes were distracted by Noah and Jacob fighting behind his husband. “Cut it out you two!”

 

Giggling, Jacob and Noah continue to slap and wrestle each-other. Mickey groans to himself, turning on his heel. He slumps over to the twins and pulls them apart, “Right, knock it off.” The twins laugh simultaneously, ignoring their father’s-tired expression and rushed towards the house.

 

Ian turns back to what he was initially going to do but when he glances to his side Jayden is already sat in his seat, head pressed against the car window. He’d talk to him later. Mickey comes close to his side, brushing a hand through his ratted hair. “So, Abigail isn’t coming?”

 

Shaking his head, Ian tries to keep this conversation short. “Nope.”

 

Mickey grunts a little, “This is _so_ Abigail, man. Just like Mandy. We tell her they ain’t sharing a room if he comes to visit and suddenly their moving in together.” He places his hands on his hips. “Don’t like it, Ian. Don’t like it one fucking bit.”

 

Ian shuts the mini-van door, still listening to Mickey’s rant. “Mick, we can’t tell her what to do now. It’s _her_ life. Ain’t like we were saints when we were her age? She’ll learn from her mistakes.” However, there was no persuading Mickey that his little girl was now a grown woman who made her own decisions.

As expected, Mickey disagrees. “She’s too fucking young to have her own life.”

 

“Mick,” Ian defends his daughter, “she’s twenty-three. We were younger than her when we had her.”

 

Mickey knew Ian was right, but this was his daughter. Abigail would always be that little toddler running around their feet in that shitty apartment they had years before. No guy would be good enough for her, but he’d just had to reluctantly accept that Ian was right.

 

Ian opens the car door and knocks Mickey out of his trance, “I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk about this later, yeah?”

 

Nodding Mickey grabs the back of Ian’s neck and pulls him forward for a kiss. “Alright, man. Call me when you’re on your way back. I _need_ a fucking shower.”

 

Pecking another kiss on Mickey’s lush lips, Ian grins to himself as he sits into the driver’s seat. “Maybe I’ll join you.”

 

“You wish.”

 

In fact, Ian did wish they could have a relaxing shower together – but with twelve kids it was merely impossible to get any time together alone. Before closing the door, he smiles in awe at his messed-up, stressed out, dirty husband. God, that feeling never went away. “Love you.”

 

Now comfortable with the words after many years, Mickey announces, “Love you too, man.”

 

Mickey watches as Ian drives off their youngest children, his heart beating fast as it always did when watching his husband leave his side for a short amount of time. The feeling of bliss was cut short by a loud bang and chuckles that echoed from the house.

 

Mickey’s face drops. “Will I ever get a fucking break.”

 


End file.
